


Defences

by leavinghope



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friendship/Love, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, John Watson's Blog, M/M, Missing Scene, Pining John, Season/Series 03, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2018-02-09 19:58:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1995882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leavinghope/pseuds/leavinghope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ella Thompson had been waiting for John Watson to walk back through her door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Empty Hearse

The moustache is gone. That was the first thing Ella Thompson noticed about John Watson as he entered her office for his last minute appointment. There was a bounce in his step and a relaxed set to his shoulders. He looked years younger than at his last appointment two weeks before.

Two weeks before, John had arrived at his appointment determined to appear cheerful. He had decided to propose to his girlfriend. He stated he was ready to move on with his life, content with his job at the surgery and a domestic home-life with Mary. Two weeks ago, John had all the appearance of someone with a terminal but manageable disease. Brave, resolved, but with a shadow hanging over him.

Ella never ceased to be amazed by Sherlock Holmes’ effect on John Watson.

John sat across from Ella with a shy smile on his face and a twinkle in his eyes. For once, he started their conversation.

“Don’t even try to pretend you haven’t heard the news.”

Ella smiled back. “I must admit, it would be difficult to pretend I did not know Sherlock has returned from the dead. He did it with such flare.”

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it.”

“Tell me.”

Ella did not bother to take notes as John related his story of Sherlock’s appearance at the restaurant and interrupting his proposal to Mary, of their physical altercation.

“You fought with him?”

John snorted. “Sherlock Holmes is a lethal fighter. If we’d really tried to hurt each other, we’d both be in hospital right now.” John shook his head. “No, he let me hit him. It’s almost like he was goading me into physically demonstrating my anger instead of holding it inside.”

_Sherlock understands John’s emotional struggles_ , Ella noted.

“Why were you angry?”

John looked at her in disbelief. “He had let me grieve for two years!”

“True. And you have every right to be angry. But why was your anger stronger than your happiness at seeing him?”

John focused on gently pulling a loose thread from the sleeve of his grey button-down cardigan. “Other people knew he was alive.”

“Who?”

“His brother, who helped him fake his death. Molly, too. Some members of his homeless network.” John exhaled loudly. “That hurts, you know. That he could trust others with his secret, but not me.”

_Trust issues exacerbated._   Ella groaned internally. This could be a huge step backwards for John. No, it _would_ be a huge step backwards.

“Are you sure it was a lack of trust?”

“What else could it have been?”

“Did Sherlock tell you why he faked his death?”

“To take down Moriarty’s network.”

Something about John’s tone implied that wasn’t the whole story.

“Anything else?”

“I truly doubt it. Sherlock does like to win his games.”  Bitterness had crept into John’s voice.

_Holding onto anger at Sherlock. Valid choice, not healthiest._

John closed his eyes. “I had already gone back to Baker Street, to see Mrs. Hudson, like I told you I would.”

_Had tried to face past before Sherlock reappeared. Good._

“Oh, she let me have it. I deserved it, too, having avoided her for so long.  We went up into our flat together. That was awful.”

_Our flat._

“Why was it awful?”

“I could hear Sherlock’s voice, his violin, his laughter. God, I could even smell him. He was everywhere. I was right not to have gone back before. I seriously questioned my decision to go at all, but I owed it to Mrs. Hudson to tell her in person.”

“Tell her what, John?”

“That I was moving on. Getting engaged.” He laughed disbelievingly. “She was surprised it was to a woman. Never could convince her Sherlock and I weren’t together.”

_Ever wonder why that is, John?_ But the last time Ella asked that, John had stormed out of their session without a backwards glance.

“All our stuff was still there. I’m guessing his brother kept up the lease.” John smiled. “Strangest thing, his parents knew he was alive. That’s why they weren’t at his funeral.”

“Why is that strange?”

“I mean, he has parents.” John appeared dumbfounded by this fact.

Ella went straight for the sarcasm. “Human biology dictates that people have parents, John.”

He shot her an amused glare. “You’ve never met Sherlock. You’d expect him to have been born fully formed, like a god or something. But his parents, they were so ordinary, the brief glimpse I had of them. I had expected, I don’t know, if his parents were still alive, that they’d be incredibly posh. Decked out in pearls and the horrifically expensive suits Sherlock and his brother wear.”

“You mentioned a brother?” Ella could not remember if John had mentioned a Holmes brother before today.

“Yeah, an older brother. He works for the government. Sherlock says he is the British government, and that isn’t as much of an exaggeration as you might think.”

_Older Holmes brother - government, powerful (?), helped Sherlock fake his death_.

John thrummed his fingers on the wooden arms of the chair. “Sherlock saved my life.”

Ella knew John had felt this way about Sherlock’s impact on his life before, but something in his tone made her ask, “Literally?”

“Yeah. I was kidnapped.” John giggled. “The bastard had barely been back in my life for a second, and I found myself inside of a burning bonfire.”

_Laughter at having his life in jeopardy._

“What happened?” This part of the story had not made the papers.

“Mary received a text, a riddle. She contacted Sherlock who figured it out.”

_Why Mary, not Sherlock?_ Ella desperately wanted to ask, but was not sure it would be helpful to John to interrupt his story.

“I had been drugged, partially paralyzed.  I was having difficulty even speaking. As the fire grew in intensity, I finally found my voice, but I don’t know if anyone could have heard me through the roar of the flames.  Next thing I knew, I was being dragged from the bonfire.”

John sat quietly, looking out of the large windows framing him and Ella as they spoke. His face took on a sad expression, perhaps thinking of how close he had come to death. But when he looked back at Ella, his face was full of wonder.

“Witnesses said Sherlock threw himself into the flames for me. Hopped off the motorbike he had commandeered with Mary and sprinted into the fire without hesitation, screaming my name.” John struggled to keep his composure. “Sherlock didn’t know I had been kidnapped outside of Baker Street, that I’d gone there to see him. Last he knew, I didn’t want to see him again, and he still risked himself to save me.” He took a deep breath and then smiled, the happiest smile Ella had ever seen on his face. “I was on my back, on the ground, still struggling to breathe. I know Mary was there, but all I could see was Sherlock leaning over me, calling my name. He was real, he was alive, and he had come for me.”

_Sherlock > Mary?_

“How are you and Sherlock doing now?”

“Good, good. Did you see the press conference?”

“A bit of it.”

“Yeah. We had it at Baker Street. A bunch of people were there, to celebrate Sherlock’s return from the dead and my engagement.”

_Carried out proposal after all._

“So, you got engaged eventually?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?” A quizzical expression on his face, John seemed truly confused.

Ella was certain somewhere in this notebook she had a whole list of reasons why John should not be getting married now that Sherlock had reappeared in his life.

“John, your life has undergone a great upheaval. Perhaps you should take time to reassess what you really want for your future.”

“I want my life with Mary, like I’d planned.”

“What about your life with Sherlock?”

John paused, and Ella could tell that he was taking the question seriously.  She waited for him to collect his thoughts.

After a few minutes had passed, John lifted a hand as if to forestall any interruption. “I can’t go back. I can’t give Sherlock that much power over me again. When he died, I lost everything. He was my whole life. I can’t let that happen again.”

_Feelings for Sherlock are greater than those for Mary. He just doesn’t realize._

“I understand your hesitance. But is it fair to Mary?”

“I’m allowed to have friends. She likes him, too, which is a huge relief.”

“John, I’m trying to phrase this as delicately as possible, but you must admit you and Sherlock were more than friends.”

“How many times do I have to say we were never together?  I’m not gay!” His voice had risen by the end of his statement, and he took on an apologetic expression.

_Defensive as ever about nature of relationship with Sherlock._

“But you were flatmates, business partners, friends …” Ella decided to plunge in, because sometimes John needed to hear it. “And you mourned for a year without dating. You used the phrase _moving on_ when you talked about proposing to Mary. You, John, your own words are implying Sherlock was more to you than just a mate you enjoy a pint with at the pub.”

“He’s like a drug.” John blurted out. His eyes were wide with surprise that he’d said anything at all.

_Progress. Says Sherlock is like a drug._

Ella nodded her head encouragingly.

“I already feel his pull. When I think of home, I don’t think of the flat I share with Mary. I think of Sherlock and Baker Street and how much I want to be back there.” John rubbed the back of his neck with his left hand.  “But he lied to me. He hurt me more than anyone ever has. He was out in the world alive for two years while I was dead inside here without him. I had finally decided to move on. I have a job and a flat and Mary, and I’m sticking with that life.”

_Chooses life with Mary, wants life with Sherlock._

“Self-defence?”

John shrugged, injecting a forced casual note to his tone. “Well, I was a soldier.”

“It isn’t up to me to judge if your decision is right or wrong, but I’m glad you have articulated your reasoning.”

John huffed a bitter laugh. “I don’t know if I am.” He looked at his watch and stood up. “Time to go.”

Ella rose from her chair and clasped John’s outstretched hand. “Make an appointment with the receptionist on your way out.”

“Yes, ma’am.” John opened up the door to leave.

“Oh, John?” As he turned back to her, Ella gestured to her upper lip. “Good call.”

“Not you, too.” John shook his head in gentle exasperation as he closed the door behind him.

As Ella walked over to her desk to turn her notes into a more coherent narrative, she murmured to herself, “I do believe you shaved for Sherlock Holmes.”


	2. The Sign of Three

Ella looked through John’s notebook in preparation for his appointment. The bookmark had been moved from its previous location. She moved it to mark the start of the blank page for today and snapped the notebook closed.

The first time she noticed John’s notebook had been tampered with, Ella was both outraged and disturbed. Outraged that someone would violate her vow of patient confidentiality, disturbed that someone broke into her office without a trace. Her hand had been inputting the phone number for the police when there had been a knock on her door. 

“Excuse me, Ella,” said her receptionist, “but the Ministry of Defence has sent a representative from Veterans Affairs to speak with you.”

A woman with long dark hair entered the room, hand outstretched. “Good to meet you, Doctor Thompson.  My name is Anthea.”

Anthea explained that John Watson was participating in a psychological study of the effects of post-traumatic stress disorder. “Here is his informed consent form.” She pushed a piece of paper across Ella’s desk for her to catch a brief glance of John’s signature. “All we require is that you leave Captain Watson’s records on your desk if you receive an email from us. The Ministry will send a representative to read over them. And you should never mention the study to him. We do not want to adversely affect his therapy.”

Ella protested, “I’m not sure about this. My patients must feel comfortable with me, and I don’t know that they can if I am handing their records over.”

“You’re on retainer with the Ministry of Defence to help our veterans.” Anthea pulled out her phone and scrolled down the screen. She smiled. “You have a brother in Afghanistan, do you not? Wouldn’t you want him to receive the best treatment possible?”

Something about Anthea’s manner made Ella’s blood run cold. “Nothing John says will be held against him?”

Anthea appeared insulted. “Of course not. We want Captain Watson to thrive. Trust me, we have his best interests at heart.”

Bringing her mind back to the present, Ella reflected that she had never noticed a deleterious effect on John due to this study. It still discomfited her, though, especially since she always received emails on days John seemed particularly agitated. Like someone was watching him. She flipped through the notebook, having left a subtle notation on the first day she had been requested to leave the notebook out, the same day the Defence representative had visited her. Ella was slightly disgusted with herself for not having put it together before. “The day he met Sherlock Holmes.” She skimmed over her notes from a previous appointment. “Elder Holmes, the British government indeed.”

Her receptionist opened the door. “John Watson for you.”

Ella smiled as John entered the room. “Good morning.”

“Good morning to you.” John sat in his usual chair, soft morning light highlighting his face.

“How are you doing?”

“Good, good.  Things are good.”

_Not starting off very forthcoming._

“What have you been up to since we last met?”

“Oh, the usual. Cases with Sherlock, still working at the surgery.” He heaved a dramatic sigh. “Wedding planning.”

“And how is that going?”

“I’m going to ask Sherlock to be my best man.”

“That’s great, John. I’m glad to hear you’ve achieved that level of closeness with Sherlock again.”

“He’s still my best friend. Never stopped.”

Ella watched as John twisted his hands in his lap and tapped one foot against the floor.

“You seem more nervous than when you were planning on proposing to Mary.”

“One of these days, I’ll have to introduce you to Sherlock. This won’t be easy.”

“Why not?”

John burst into a fit of nervous laughter. “You can’t tell from how I’ve described him before? He will absolutely hate having to interact with everyone. Chatting with guests. Oh god, the speech at the reception.” John shook his head like he couldn’t believe he was even thinking of asking Sherlock.

“Is there a safer choice?”

“Oh, sure.” John quieted. “But I can’t imagine my wedding day without Sherlock at my side.”

_Sherlock’s place at his side seems to be as important as Mary’s._

John cleared his throat. “There was a case recently, seemed like it would be so straightforward.  Young woman was outside Baker Street, hesitating to knock. I described her actions as I watched out the window, and Sherlock said _Oscillation on the pavement always means there is a love affair._ Eventually she got the nerve to knock.”

John lost himself in his thoughts for a few moments, until Ella interrupted him. “Was Sherlock right? Love affair?”

“Yeah, oh yeah. But she was the one having the affair, with a woman.” John looked out of the windows into the bright London morning. “She was afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“That her family would find out she was gay. Apparently her husband had blackmailed her into marriage. He would keep her sexual orientation a secret in exchange for the wealth provided by her background.”

Ella couldn’t help but frown. “That’s so sad.”

John sighed. “It is. But there is a happy ending to this story. Sherlock, Mary and I got the photos her husband had obtained through a private detective to continue to blackmail her with.” John smiled in remembrance. “Sherlock handed over the photos and told her to take the risk… be honest with her family and leave her husband to be with the person she loves.”

Ella raised her eyebrows. “How romantic?”

John rolled his eyes. “I know. Never would have expected that from Sherlock. I mean, he hates it when people are punished for being different, always has. But Sherlock has changed since he got back.”

“Changed how?”

“Softer, gentler. He’s actually said the words _I’m sorry_ to me several times. He’s willing to do anything for me, like he’s trying hard to atone for what he did.” John ran his hands through his hair and let out a sound of disgust. “I’ve called him a psychopath on the blog and a machine to his face. God, I can’t believe I called him a machine. That tormented me the entire time he was gone.”

“You’ve changed your mind?”

“Of course, of course. I never really meant it. That was my temper, just as he’d planned. In reality, he feels so much. I’ve always known his _high functioning sociopath_ routine was just an act. Just hurts a lot when he turns it towards me.”

“Did you say Mary went on this case with you?”

“Yeah, she did. It was a bit unexpected to have her breaking into a residence with me and Sherlock.”

“Breaking in?”

“Um, euphemistically.” John winked.

Ella smiled and made a show of pretending to erase something from her notebook. John laughed in response.

“So, why was it surprising Mary came along?”

“She likes Sherlock, and she enjoys hearing about our cases. But…”

“But what…”

“One of the first things that attracted me to Mary is she wasn’t part of that life. A nurse at the surgery, who bakes bread and loves cats and doesn’t need a battlefield to make her happy. I wanted that normalcy with her.”

“So?”

“So seeing her there was jarring. I was both thrilled and saddened by it.”

“Saddened?”

“Yeah. Mary is a refuge for me, you know? Away from that life.”

“Did she enjoy it?”

“Very much so.” 

“Do you maybe not know Mary as well as you think you do?”

“I know enough.” John settled deeper into the chair.

“Is Mary jealous of Sherlock?”

John looked confused by the question. “No, of course, not.”

“Why ‘of course’?’

“They get along splendidly. She encourages me to go on cases with him, to spend time with him. It also gives her time for her own pursuits. Works out perfectly all around.”

_Mary gets what she wants, John gets what he wants, Sherlock gets…?_

John nodded his head once. “Mary is the best thing that ever happened to me.” 

“Ever?”

John shrugged and looked to where his left hand was toying with the fabric on the seat of the chair.  “One of…”

“John, you need to admit you talk about Mary and Sherlock as equals in your life.”

“They are the two most important people to me, yes.”

“What does that mean?”

“I care about both of them.”

“John, what distinguishes your feelings for Mary from your feelings for Sherlock?”

“I love her.”

“Do you love him?”

“I don’t…” John began an instant denial, but the words stuck in his throat. Sensing an opportunity for a long-needed breakthrough, Ella pressed on.

“Do you love Sherlock?”

John shook his head to indicate otherwise, but murmured, “Yes.”

“Say it, John.”

John closed his eyes. “I love him.”

“Use his name this time.”

“I love Sherlock.”

At this point, John started his breathing exercises to calm himself.

_Admitted he loves Sherlock. Deeply affected by this admission. Almost panicking._

Ella attempted to put him at ease. “That is wonderful. To be able to have people, friends and family, in our lives that we love, don’t you agree?”

John nodded his head.

“It is perfectly acceptable and laudable to say we love our friends.”

Another nod. John’s breathing slowed.

“Alright, let me ask this again, what distinguishes your feelings for Mary from your feelings for Sherlock?”

“I’m not gay.” The words were a hesitant whisper.

_Difference between relationships with Mary & Sherlock = sex?_

Ella thought back to the case John chose to relate earlier in their session. Sherlock had encouraged the young woman to be true to herself and risk everything to be with the woman she loved. _Oh._

“Please feel free to tell me if you think this question is out of bounds, as it does pertain to Sherlock’s privacy, but is Sherlock gay?”

John closed his eyes and continued to take deep breaths. Just when Ella thought she would not get an answer, John chose to open his eyes and speak. “I honestly don’t know. He told me women weren’t his area, but I’ve only ever seen him distracted by a woman. One woman in particular.” John clenched his jaw and gritted out, “I don’t know if he feels that way for anyone. If he’s even capable of it.”

“Would it make a difference?”

John’s face twisted into sadness. For a moment, Ella thought John was going to cry. He never cried in front of Ella. In fact, she didn’t know if he had cried at all, over Sherlock, over his sister’s alcoholism, over his parents’ emotional distance and homophobia, over the loss of his military career. John’s trust issues applied even to him, not allowing him to be himself.

Abruptly, the slump of John’s shoulders was replaced by upright military bearing.

_No breakthrough today._

He forced a smile. “Nope, no difference. I have Mary, I love Mary. She has never hurt me. She has never lied to me. She has never betrayed me. We are getting married, and she is my future.”

The receptionist knocked and opened the door simultaneously. “Your next appointment is here.”

John stood. “Just in time.” He shook Ella’s hand and briskly walked out of the office without another word.

Ella recognized that gait. It was the gait of her brother every time he returned home on leave. It was the gait of her father, a special forces officer on loan to the US in a lost war both countries would rather forget. The gait of soldiers, men and women, who arrived home to live amongst those who could never understand their battlefields, within and without.  Soldiers who crave the steadfast camaraderie of their fellows while expected to cope alone.

Ella suspected that John always stood on the battlefield, long before Afghanistan and St. Bart’s. Captain of the rugby team, Captain in the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers. Dutiful son to unappeasable parents. A doctor left bleeding. A soldier without a war. Torn between the love of the life he craves and the love of the life he aspires to.

Ella hoped this battle would not end with a wound to John’s heart.


	3. His Last Vow

As her last task of the day, Ella Thompson checked her appointment calendar to see which of her patients were scheduled for the next morning. She walked over to her records cabinet and was pulling out notebooks, when she heard a gentle knock on the door behind her.

She turned to see John Watson in her doorway.

“Come in, John.” She turned back to the cabinet and grabbed his notebook.

“I’m sorry for just showing up.”

“It’s alright, John. I know you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t think it was important.”

She gestured to a chair, and they sat together as cloudy twilight filtered through the windows of the office.

Ella watched the man flex his left hand repeatedly. She had not seen John since before his wedding, but she could not help but be aware of some of the events in his life. Shag-a-lot Holmes had been shot and hospitalized. The news must have devastated John, who had suffered so much during Sherlock’s two-year absence. She had instructed her receptionist to make time for John whenever he finally showed up.

Quiet filled the darkening room. Ella knew to be patient.

“I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Is there a specific event that brought you here today?”

“Ella.” The accusation in John’s voice was clear.

“Say it.”

“Sherlock was shot.” 

Ella looked at John. He was utilizing his breathing exercises in front of her. He was not ready to talk about his feelings just yet. _Best to stick to the facts for now_.

“That was several months ago. How is Sherlock doing?”

“As maddening as ever.”

“That’s good?”

John attempted a smile. As he continued to struggle with being forthcoming, Ella knew what pressure point to apply.

“Has an action of Sherlock’s brought you here today?”

John responded, “Look, it’s hard to explain. There are things I actually cannot tell you.”

“You have privacy rights as my patient.”

“No. Trust me. I can’t.”

Ella did not know if this was John’s latent trust issues or something in this specific case that prevented John from talking. Either way, they were getting nowhere.

“What particular emotion brought you here today?”

John’s control failed. “She doesn’t even care he was shot!”

Anger then. But at whom?

“Who is _she_ , John?”

His eyes were squeezed closed, as if he were in pain. “Mary, my own wife, does not care that Sherlock almost died again.”

He opened his eyes and made direct eye contact with Ella for the first time that day. “How can she not understand what his death would have done to me?”

The anguish in John’s voice troubled Ella. “Previously you said Mary liked Sherlock.”

“I thought she did. I’m not sure of anything anymore.”

“Let’s go back to the beginning. What makes you think that Mary feels this way?”

“I can’t really explain.”

Ella sighed. “How am I supposed to help you, John?”

After a gentle knock on the door, Ella’s receptionist poked her head in. “I’m locking up. See you tomorrow.”

“Have a good evening.” Ella was glad for the interruption. It allowed John some time to decide what he would allow himself to say next.

“I’ve been living apart from Mary while Sherlock recovers.”

“Are you back at Baker Street?”

John hesitated. “Not really. Sherlock’s recovery has mostly been in hospital.”

“Not really?”

“Sometimes I’m there, but Sherlock isn’t.”

Ella wrote in her notebook _Baker Street = Sherlock_ under the notation from two years previous that said _Home = Sherlock._

“Have you been attending to Sherlock as he recovers?”

“I’ve tried, but he pushes me away. He’s got Wiggins to help him now anyway.”

_Wiggins?_

“Wiggins?”

“Yeah. He’s got himself a new sidekick.”

Ella heard the regret in John’s voice. Sherlock was establishing new boundaries, ‘moving on’ after John’s marriage, perhaps to help John’s marriage? “I understand you cannot tell me everything, but is it safe to say that Mary’s feelings about Sherlock’s shooting has led to your separation?”

“Yes.”

“That seems to be a drastic step.”

John shook his head in frustration. “Nobody knows more than Mary what Sherlock means to me. She saw how I was when I thought he was dead. She was a lifesaver for me.”

“Yes, I know.”

John continued, “And it was so important to me that she liked Sherlock. She seemed to adore him.”

He turned the wedding ring on his finger. “I don’t think I could have married her if she hadn’t cared for Sherlock.”

_Would have chosen Sherlock over Mary._

“Go on.”

“Getting Sherlock back was a miracle. For a time, I was so happy. I mean, I had the two people I cared about most in the world at my side. Every day, the woman I love and the man… my best friend were with me.”

_Say it. Just say it again, and we could make so much progress._

“Do you still love her, John?”

John smiled grimly, a smile that Ella knew reflected only the deepest anger. “I love the woman I married.”

“Are you making a distinction between Mary today and the Mary of last summer?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Do you love the Mary of today?”

“I do not know.”

“Are you thinking of divorce?”

“Mary is pregnant.”

“That isn’t what I asked.”

“But it is the answer to your question.” 

John looked down at his clasped hands and said, barely above a whisper, “Sherlock thinks I should forgive her.”

Ella did not know what to say to that. _Forgiveness seems like such a strong word._ She looked at John expectantly.

“I can’t believe he wants me to forgive her.”

“Sherlock is not the one who has been betrayed by Mary.”

John just shook his head, grinning his anger still.

Ella chose a different tactic.

“Why do you think Sherlock is encouraging you to forgive Mary?”

“He says I forgave him the unforgivable, so I should be able to forgive the mother of my child.”

“Do you think he has a point?”

“He says this is the life I wanted. Wife, child, practice. He says this is what I chose.” He expelled a deep breath. “He says that I chose her.”

_Sherlock used language comparing himself to Mary. Interesting. But John won’t want to hear that._

“Isn’t it the life you wanted?”

“Yeah, but…” his voice trailed off.

“It sounds like Sherlock wants you to be happy, John.”

“I know, I know.” There was the beginning of a sob in his voice.

The room was completely dark except for the gentle amber glow of the wall sconces behind the two chairs.  A steady rain began to tap against the windows.

“Did I ever tell you about the time when I asked Sherlock to be my best man?”

The segue startled Ella. “No. How did that go?”

“He was charming. Completely surprised. Baffled, really.” John ran his hands over his face and exhaled loudly. “And do you know why he was baffled?”

“No, John.”

“And his speech. My god, his speech. He said the loveliest things about me. He made me sound like a hero. Said I saved his life. And he said…”

For the first time in all of their visits, Ella witnessed a tear fall down John’s face.

_Tears for Sherlock. Finally._

Grabbing a tissue from the box on the table at his side, John wiped the tears away quickly. “In front of all of those people, Sherlock said that I was up there with the two people who love me most in all this world.”

Ella waited for John to continue.

“He said he loved me in front of all of those people and I can’t even… “

John paused. After rubbing tears from his face, he said, “He was surprised I asked him to be my best man because he didn’t know he was my best friend. I was so angry at him for making me grieve, but I thought he knew…” 

“Knew what, John?”

“What is wrong with me, Ella? The most observant person I’ve ever known didn’t realize how much I cared for him.”

John stared out the French doors. Ella wondered if he’d ever noticed the latch, if he was tempted to escape into the night. John never saw himself as the sort of man who runs away, but he’d been running away from Sherlock ever since he returned. 

“Did you know, John?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you know how you felt about Sherlock before he left?”

Ella watched the shutters come down between her and John’s emotions. Shutters that she as a trained clinical psychologist found difficult to penetrate. Shutters that defended John’s heart against the mind of Sherlock Holmes. She decided to pick up a thread left hanging from months ago.

“Did Sherlock ever tell you why he faked his death? If it was just to take down Moriarty’s network?”

John set his jaw in the stubborn pose that Ella knew well. She pushed on.

“Speculation in the media says he did it to protect you.”

“As far as I know, yes.”

“It sounds like Sherlock cares about you very much. He puts your happiness above his own.”

“Not my happiness. My safety.”  He squeezed his eyes shut. “Oh my god, my safety.”

John abruptly stood up from his chair. “Thank you, Ella. For seeing me today.”

“John, I have more time for you.”

“No, really, I have to go, thank you.” He nodded once and walked to the door, a slight limp visible to eyes that knew to look for it. He turned his head to look at her. “And happy Christmas, Ella.”

“You, too, John.” 

As John closed the door behind him, Ella sighed. She was frustrated by her inability to help him. Breaking down trust issues was difficult in the best of circumstances, and John had a habit of waiting until he was at a breaking point before seeking her assistance.  She looked over her notes of the session:

_Conflict with wife about Sherlock._

_Would seek divorce if Mary were not pregnant.  Overreaction?_

_Related dialogue from Sherlock that uses language indicating Sherlock sees himself as an equal to Mary. Not noticed by John._

_Dialogue also indicated Sherlock feels John chose Mary over him. Not noticed by John._

_Will not talk about feelings for Sherlock._

_Refused to discuss details about Mary’s lack of remorse over Sherlock’s shooting._

_Confused that Sherlock wants him to reconcile with Mary._

_Left abruptly after realizing Sherlock always prioritizes his safety._

Ella checked her email. Nothing from Defence instructing her to leave John’s notebook out. But her instincts screamed. She jotted down a few more notes and prepared to leave for the evening. As she stood up from her desk and put on her coat, she said loudly, “Just in case you’re listening… You have his best interest at heart? Help him, please. Because I think this might be more than I can assist him with.” 

Ella looked around her office, flipped off the light switch, and locked the door behind her.  On her desk, John’s notebook lay open to her final notes about the day’s appointment, with the last line highlighted:

_If Sherlock thinks John is safer with Mary, who is Sherlock protecting John from…himself or Mary?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your support!


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